The Biggest Headache
by Dakkori
Summary: Descole tries and fails to grasp the strange concept of 'sympathy'.


Randall Ascot felt certain all the color had drained from his tan face, if that was even possible. He slowly leaned his head back in the carriage with a heavy sigh, wondering why he didn't expect this to happen.

It all started with that letter – that wonderful, terrible letter that all at once explained everything that had been and currently was. His past, the betrayal, the injustices, it was a lot to take in all at once. Thankful, guided by Jean Descole, he intended to right the wrongs done to him.

First, however, Descole insisted on touring his old hometown. Fair enough. A part of Randall honestly wished he could feel excited over the trip. Every sight he saw brought up more memories. Happy memories of friends, their time spent together…But ultimately, all seeing that ghost town served was to fuel his anger and hatred all the more.

It was too much stress for his damaged mind to handle.

"Descole…" Randall murmured, cracking open an eye at the man sitting next to him. Even with the mask, he was sure Descole had been eyeing him for the better half of five minutes now.

"Yes, what?" He asked rather abruptly. He probably waited for Randall to say something.

"…Can we…can we find a place to stay for the night? I've got a bad headache…"

Well, technically not yet, but he grew increasingly more exhausted and his neck hurt. Not long now. Once his vision started going out, he only had a short window of time to find somewhere comfortable to lie down and rest.

"…a headache…? Can't you just wait until we return?" Poor choice of words, Randall realized.

"Well…a migraine. Turns out falling into a cavern and bashing your skull into some rocks in a river isn't very good for your health, heh." He tried to crack a smile, but it quickly faded away at the thought of the impending agony.

He'd had migraines ever since his fall (or, never once had a memory of having headaches that bad before then), and by now they'd become just a fact of life. At least, thankfully, they grew more and more spaced out as he got older. Randall vaguely remembered his first months in Craggy Dale – nearly constant misery. Now he only had them at a much more manageable once every month or two. Unfortunately, this one was early. Remembering the first 18 years of his life, learning of his friend's betrayal, the death of his family and seeing the ghost town that was Stansbury…his mind was strained, to say the least.

"…Look, in an hour I'm going to become completely incapacitated for the rest of the day, if I'm lucky. Please…" The ginger tried to put on his best pitiful face as he looked to Descole.

"…"

"…Sometimes I puke, too."

"Fine." Descole huffed, probably a bit unhappy about Randall holding up his plans. Thank God Descole's generosity hadn't run out yet.

By the time they arrived at the nearest, almost-abandoned little inn, spots already invaded Randall's field of vision. He figured they must have stopped in the middle of nowhere. Good, at least that meant the place would be quiet. Stumbling, Randall blearily followed along behind Descole and his butler as the men got them a couple of rooms and led him to one. The only thing he really had time to notice was how sparse the furniture was, but everything appeared to be clean enough. As long as it had a bed, he really didn't care.

Randall barely crawled into bed when the pain started, thudding from the back of his head where his injury had been and radiating through the rest of his skull. At first, it felt dull and somewhat bearable, but it would get worse. It always got worse.

"Is there…anything you need…?" He heard Descole ask, his voice a little awkward and stilted.

"Mmm…" He blinked slowly. "Close the curtains, and shut the door on your way out…that's about it…thank you."

Raymond already headed to adjust the curtains, and Randall sighed with relief as all the light in the room disappeared. This wouldn't be so bad – Descole seemed to care. He only needed the day to rest…

Descole turned to Raymond once Randall closed his eyes, confusion partially visible on his mostly-covered face. Nodding, Raymond slipped out of the room and held the door open for his master behind him. The butler was likely one of the only people who could read his body language so clearly underneath his disguise.

"It's an irritating setback," Descole started in a hush tone. "But I figure being nice will allow us to gain his trust faster."

The ginger lost all sense of time once his migraine hit full force. His mind went blank, consumed by a massive, throbbing pain bursting through his skull. Randall longed for sleep, the sweet, painless reprieve of unconsciousness that always ended his episodes. But despite his exhaustion, he knew he wasn't going to get that any time soon. He began to feel nauseous, an unfortunately common side effect brought on from the pain. Maybe he wouldn't throw up this time.

Suddenly the door opened, the slight creak intensifying the pain in his head and snapping him out of his daze. Disoriented and a little homesick, Randall cracked open his eyes.

"Uhh…? U-uncle…?"

"No, it's me." Descole's stern voice replied. Randall pouted a little and curled up tightly beneath the blankets, whimpering as his head hurt with each movement.

"What…? Unless it's been a day already, please…leave me alone…" Usually they didn't last that long. Usually.

"Oh no, it's only been an hour."

The soft sound of Descole's shoes hitting the carpet seemed so _loud_. Even though his eyes were closed, Randall could tell he had moved forward and now stood directly over him. Randall waited for him to say something, but…he didn't. He only stood there. Realizing he wasn't going anywhere, the ginger sighed heavily, pushing a bit of hair out of his face.

"Descole…what is it that you want?" Randall asked into his pillow.

"I just want to make you…as comfortable as-"

"Good. Then leave me alone." Despite his pain, he really couldn't help but feel irritated at this point. If he had the strength to move, Randall would have chucked his spare pillow at him by now. Descole seemed sympathetic, but not enough so to listen to what he wanted. Either that, or he wasn't nearly as…bright as Randall first assumed.

A pang of nausea interrupted the rest of the ginger's thoughts and forced him into silence. The room quickly went dead quiet, not even Descole made a sound – which meant he probably still stood there, staring and waiting. He suppose he preferred that to Descole talking, at least. Minutes dragged by, but Randall just felt worse. Slowly, he felt the weight in the bed shift with a soft creak.

Descole had finally sat down.

"Descole…" He forced out, swallowing thickly.

"Hm?"

"You wanna…make yourself useful?" Randall asked as he carefully sat up and face the edge of the bed. "Please…get me something to puke in…"

"…You- what?!" The masked man suddenly jumped back up, startled by his request. "R-RAYMOND! COME IN HERE! AT ONCE!"

Luckily, Raymond rushed in just in time, quickly noticing the state the man was in and grabbed the trash bin that sat next to the door. Descole looked away in complete disgust, grimacing as he went on for a good minute.

"There, there…" Descole awkwardly offered and scooted a little farther backwards. His butler glanced in his direction, but otherwise his attempt at comfort was ignored.

The room spun – for a moment Randall worried he might actually pass out, lightheaded and shaking from such heavy exertion. Panting hard, he winced a little as Raymond patted his back before taking the receptacle out of his hands. Though he appreciated the gesture, the ginger started to feel pretty embarrassed by now. Raymond's face remained completely emotionless throughout their interactions, too, and that weirded him out.

"…..I need to rest….." Randall croaked, wiping the sweat forming on his forehead with a trembling hand. He hoped the simple statement would get the message across, then once more took refuge under the covers. Staying angry took too much energy.

"We should probably leave him to recover, Master." Raymond said as he took a few steps forward, causing Descole to step back, repulsed. "Don't worry, I'll make sure to dispose of this immediately."

Descole muttered a weak 'feel better' before the two shuffled out of the room. Just the soft click of the door closing made Randall sigh with relief, the silence once more slightly alleviating the worst of his migraine. It still hurt terribly, of course, but anything was better than having to listen to Descole move and talk and breathe or make any other annoying sounds. Slowly, Randall sank back into a comforting half daze and prayed there would be no further incidents.

The ginger laid there for hours, fatigue heavy on his body but in too much pain to fall asleep. Surely he was reaching the end. He normally fell asleep before now. Little wonder why, he thought, what with Descole's constant interruption. He heard the door creak open every so often, just enough to disturb him before shutting closed once more. Randall did the only thing he could do and played dead, hoping maybe he would be left alone if he stayed still enough.

Randall decided he couldn't take it any longer when the door opened once more.

"Come in here one more time and Henry won't be the only one I get vengeance on." He smirked slightly when he heard Descole jump.

"A-ah. So I see you're finally awake?"

"I never fell asleep." The ginger's voice dripped with irritation, but Descole seemed to pay it no mind. He needed to be more direct.

"Do you feel any-"

"Get out. Of my bloody room. Right now."

"There's no need for that tone." Descole muttered, offended now. "I'm just trying-!"

Randall knew he shouldn't move around, but at this point it was hard to care. It only took a swift motion, followed by a loud SNAP and then a thud across the room.

"Did…did you just throw the hotel phone at me!?" Randall had literally ripped it out of the wall and chucked it at him. Descole nudged the receiver with his foot, highly offended. The ginger hadn't exactly meant to snap the cord, but it seemed to get the point across regardless. The masked man stared at him and he stared back, defiant anger etched into his tired face. Insulted, Descole turned and loudly and dramatically slammed the door. Randall flinched at the sound, but at least he was gone…he started to lay down but stopped as he noticed something wedged in the door – Descole's cape. He thought of saying something, but Descole quickly took notice on his own and swung it back open, pulled his cape down, and slammed it again. Exhausted from this whole ordeal, Randall slid back onto his pillow and slowly, finally nodded off.

He would feel much better in the morning, albeit a little sore and far too ready to cover a city with sand.


End file.
